Broken Records
by dk2022
Summary: Four years after the war and a certain Potions Master has become too snarky even for the Headmistress. The perfect person is brought in to save the day. Written pre-DH, HBP spoilers. HG/SS to come.
1. Chapter 1: Green

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. JK Rowling does. Please do not sue me.

Author's notes: This is supposed to be funny. Whether it is or not is a different matter. So please no flames because of something silly. :) Thank you. I actually don't know where anything is in Hogwarts, I just know that Griffindor is up and Slytherin is down... Hmm... Review, and thank you to my wonderful beta Kejsarinna (on LJ).

_Written as part of Fic101, a fanfiction challenge community on LiveJournal. Prompt: 1. Green._

* * *

The trees and hills were a welcomed sight after three years away. Hogwarts was still home to Hermione Granger; the library was a haven from idiots, the Great Hall and its amazing ceiling still breathtaking. The castle itself had taken a slight beating when a deranged Lucius Malfoy tried to murder Mrs. Norris for catching one of his pet rats. Some lovely Healers from St Mungo's soon arrived to take him home - a private wing for his unique mental condition.

That was Hermione's seventh year. You-Know-Who and his horcruxes weren't as hard to find as they had expected. Lucius, in a fit of Ailurophobic attack blurted their whereabouts as a cat walked past the windowsill of his "cell" at Hogwarts - a V.I.P. room in the Hufflepuff wing. The objects were destroyed, but Harry had died along with You-Know-Who. Both had lost their wands, but somehow they had found celery sticks. Hermione was still at a loss as to how the pair had found the said celery sticks, and how it came to be that they had the same allergy when, three days earlier, Harry had been dunking celery sticks into mayonnaise.

Ron had scarpered in a fit of un-Griffindor cowardice. No-one had seen him since C-Day, but from the way he had changed the weeks leading up to his mad dash to anywhere but there, Hermione hardly missed him. He was less volatile, something Hermione thought she would enjoy, and his eyes, which had been soft brown with a hint of strength, had grown colder as each day passed. 'Good riddance to bad rubbish,' she thought as she walked past the castle gates.

It hadn't changed much. The castle hid the goals of the Quidditch pitch and the silent, but steamy (in that it steamed up quickly inside during lessons) greenhouses. To one side was the Great Lake, and she knew that the merpeople would still be eating Calamari. The Giant Squid had been killed the summer previous by, 'assailant or assailants unknown.' Hermione had laughed slightly when Minerva had written that. True, the squid was an institution in the Wizarding World, but he ('Or was it a she?') was pushing it slightly. "I bet the merchildren are sick of Giant Squid for breakfast, lunch and dinner..."

To be perfectly honest, Hermione was slightly confused as to why she was called to the school. As far as she knew all the teaching positions were filled (after Defence Against the Dark Arts had a name change to, "AAAAAH! Watch Out!" the post had remained under the studious care of Professor Arnold Bartelmouse), Poppy was in one piece, as were Hagrid and Filch, and, unless she was very much mistaken, house elves were still the helpers of choice. Something was amiss, and if there was one thing that Hermione Granger hated, it was something being amiss.

* * *

Severus Snape was stuck between a rock and a very hard place. His home - "The third in as many years Minerva!" - had been burnt to the ground. Books and robes had been destroyed in a lynch mob's futile attempt to catch and kill him... Pity they carried pitchforks and burning torches and not wands to do said catch and killing. His most treasured books were kept at Hogwarts - "Phobias for the Discerning Wizard" and "How to Cause Allergies and Influence People" were but two titles in his immense sacred library - but any village idiot willing to burn a house full of books was just asking for the scathing remarks full of sarcasm and the trouble of their vandalism doubled onto them.

"Minerva, why must I spend yet another year here enduring to educate dunderheads who will most likely spawn several more dunderheads who will find a way to come and haunt me?" Severus ranted, as Minerva sat calmly behind her desk, writing as if the room was silent and still, waiting for when he calmed. The moment came, and she pointed idly at an empty frame. The gold plated scroll beneath was all Snape needed to stop ranting.

"Now, if you are quite ready to sit down, I can tell you why you are here," Minerva's slipped Scottish accent announced. Snape sat as if two invisible hands forced him down. "Now then Severus, for the past three years you have been ruder and more acidic than even before. We --"

"As in Albus."

Minerva stared over her glasses at the sarcastic wizard. "No, _we_ decided that we should bring in some help for you. You needn't worry however, we've chose the perfect person!"

Severus' heart and stomach sank to his feet. His idea of perfect was a Slytherin with an IQ higher than three, whilst his headmistress thought otherwise. He knew her idea of perfect - brash, bossy, know-it-all and Griffindor. "Oh Merlin. If it's her I swear I'll --"

"You will do nothing! Miss Granger is here to help you, and if I hear you're being a trifle bit more awkward than usual I will volunteer you to look after the Hogsmead trips and the Calamari hunt!" Minerva's cheeks were two purple-red blotches of stress filled skin.

"Merlin's beard. Why Hermione bloody Granger?" he groaned. Unless she had suddenly learnt how to be quiet this would be Hell for him.

"Must you really know why I asked her here?" Snape nodded, and Minerva stood and leant on the desk. "As she is the only witch who is more stubborn than you! Now, off to the Main Hall with you to fetch her up here. And Severus, one prickly comment and I will show baby pictures." Minerva left out whose baby photos, but with the understanding between her and the professors that if she said that she meant Madame Hooch's childhood pictures. Orange cat eyes and baby noses did not mix.

If Snape was perfectly honest things had been trying on him the past four years. He was cleared of murder (the court was slightly shocked when Dumbledore, or rather his portrait, gave evidence, something that hadn't occurred in over a thousand years), but the stigma of being the killer hung over his head like the giant bat people claimed him to be. He wished he could transfigure his looks and change his name, but his transfiguration skills had rusted after many years of disuse, and Minerva had refused to help him. "Bloody Griffindor," he muttered to no-one in particular. The portraits eyed him warily, but he ignored them, wanting nothing more than to crawl under his bed and hide from the evil headmistress.

"Good morning Professor."

His glare intensified. "Is it? Is it really?" 'Blasted Griffindor perkiness pre-lunchtime. It cannot be healthy!'

"Of course it is. The sun is shining, the sky is clear and the birds are singing. It's a glorious day!" Hermione blushed. Regardless of the time away, she still viewed Snape as her professor, and, as such, should be treated as one.

Snape merely turned. "Minerva is waiting for you Miss Granger... You would do well to keep that attitude in check." He started walking. "Well, are you so devoid of intelligence that you cannot follow me to the Headmistress' office?"

* * *

"Severus Snape has not changed," Hermione commented over the china tea set. "He's as acidic as the day I left."

"He is worse Hermione. He's such a recluse, even worse after..." She coughed slightly and looked mournfully at Albus' empty frame. "He will not come to meals and his manner to the children has become positively Draconian. No-one is safe, not even his Slytherin pupils."

Hermione's brow furrowed. "Why?"

"No-one knows, but children, especially the older ones, are complaining. That's why I've asked you here. Would you be able to teach a few of his classes?"

The tea that should have stayed in Hermione's mouth decided to have an impromptu flying lesson; over Minerva's pile of parchments, ready to be sent that evening. "Me? Teach?"

"Yes! You'd be perfect! Head Girl, knowledgeable, friendly..."

"Yet utterly impatient with people who do not wish to learn!"

Minerva chuckled. She would do perfectly. Hermione suspected that the chuckle and tinkle were passed down from one headmaster to the next as they were instated in the lofty position. "You'll be fine m'dear. I only want you to help ease Severus' workload. I'll entrust you to sort out the details with Severus." Minerva seemed to take Hermione's outburst as acceptance. Hermione sighed in defeat. She did need a job, and to start repaying back student loans. It would be an interesting year.

* * *

Reviews please.


	2. Chapter 2: Envy

Disclaimer: I own nothing. I am merely working in the garden that was lovingly made by and cared for by JK Rowling (randomly, she was in my dream last night, looking cool). I do not wish to be sued so... No sueing. Only borrowing!

Authors Notes: Uhm, thanks for the quick beta by deltadasher (she reads over it and says if it needs changing). This was written for the LiveJournal Fic101 community (101 words, a 101 fics, 1 fandom). The word? Envy. Review and enjoy.

* * *

"If we are to be working together you will… No, that won't be advisable… You are working under me…" Severus sighed. Addressing his mirror was no good; he would need to address the problem of the Know It All head on.

Hmm… _Head _on. No, it wouldn't do to think of her like that. She would be his subordinate and as such inappropriate thoughts would be… "Inappropriate."

Scowling, he turned from his mirror and went to his Office. Granger had it easy – she liked children, or at least liked forcing her knowledge down other peoples throats.

Throat.

Forcing.

Sucking.

…

"Ugh." How could he work under such conditions? When both Lord and Master were alive he had some peace but her? She'd drive him batty in half a term, if that. His mind, whilst highly trained and under his command, was an unreliable entity around womenfolk in general. Except with Bellatrix and Minerva. Bella was crazy and Minerva was Minerva.

Granger was different.

"Is," he said aloud. "Is most certainly different." And that one thought shook him to the core.

--

Hermione paced her floor. "I understand that I'll be working under you but… No. No buts. Or ifs." She glanced at her new bed. "Or any decent, raunchy sex until Christmas…" Sighing, she ran her hands carefully through her hair before leaving the safety of her rooms. Hermione Granger was going to face the Voice of the Dungeons. Somehow, each whispered syllable vibrated though the room, and through the bodies of all the female population, and even some of the manly man population. Severus Snape had a voice that could melt titanium, but he never put it to good use.

Blinking, Hermione pushed her feelings of lust to one side. He was lucky. Everyone expected him to be snarky and rude, but she had been employed to be the polite one. The good cop to his bad one. She'd be the one with masses of classes cancelled because of injury. Dread was her one companion as she knocked on Severus' door.

--

There was a knock. "Damned girl… Woman… Ugh," he muttered before allowing her entry.

"Good afternoon Professor," she greeted politely.

"Good afternoon Miss Granger," he replied, equally polite. "I assume you're here to discuss your new profession. Please, take a seat."

Smiling, Hermione gathered her wits and sat by his desk. "I am. Minerva took my lack of histrionics as acceptance."

"To do well in this school Miss Granger, you must stay out of eye contact." Nodding, she listened intently as he continued. "These are the syllabi for the first to third years. You are to take control of these lessons…"

A few hours later and neither party felt completely at ease but a tentative pact had been formed. Hermione would follow his rules but could deviate slightly, if needed. He would teach one lesson each month, mostly to make sure that the pupils were up to speed.

"Oh, and one more this Miss Granger; do not teach the little blighters in the second year the Polyjuice Potion. Brewing the antidote is time consuming."

Blushing, she left. Lucky wanker.


	3. Chapter 3: Best

Disclaimer: Not mine. See other chapters.

Author's Notes: Another chapter because two and three are so short. Sorry about that. Not really a drabble, more a gross of words (12 x 12, which is 144, which is a gross. See, maths and business rock!) Thanks to MS Word for the quick beta, and to deltadasher for the read over. Both woman and machine rock.

This was written for prompt number eleven of Fic101 at LJ. Prompt eleven: Best. Enjoy, and review.

* * *

Arching, their chests pushed together as he thrust into her willing flesh. He had been loving and patient, kissing her all over, every inch of her skin blessed and on fire. She almost fell to pieces when he flicked her clit with that wondrous tongue of his.

"Come for me Hermione," he whispered as their friction made the room black out.

Blinking, Hermione gasped as she sat up; sweat lightly covering her skin, making any material feel heavy against her. Trying to control her breathing, she laid herself back down, attempting (without much success) to banish the image of her and her soon to be head of department.

"The sex might very well be amazing, but I need to look Professor Snape in the eye." Happy she had given herself enough of a telling off at that late hour, Hermione went back to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4: Anger

Disclaimer: Not mine. Don't sue. Thank you.

Author's Notes: Some swearing. I couldn't remember how many items were banned by Filch, so I surmised neither would McGonagall (not because she didn't care, but because she had more important things to remember, like not to get too angry when someone complained about her favourite Slytherin). A quick beta by MS Word (computers are love) and a beta-listen (like a read only you read it to them, instead of them reading it) by deltadasher. Enjoy, and please please please review. They make me work faster... Or at least give me something to read when my writer's bloke sets in.

* * *

"We have a new faculty member joining us. A few of you may remember Hermione Granger from her years as a student. She will now be teaching first through to third year Potions." Hermione waved a small wave to the Hogwarts population. She would be teaching all the younger children, and an insistent headache was already making itself known. Forcing a smile, she tried not to imagine the myriad of catastrophes that might occur as she tried to teach.

"As always, the Forbidden Forest is just that, forbidden. Any student found there will lose house points and serve detention. Mister Filch has asked me to remind all pupils that all Weasley's Wizard Wheezes products are banned from school property, along with all other banned items listed. For those wishing to see the list, please visit Mister Filch…"

"I bet you had all the items memorised," a small, sneering voice whispered in her ear.

"Of course, how ever else would I be able to flaunt the rules if I didn't know them?" Hermione bit back sarcastically.

"So you admit it then?" he probed as the students prepared to file out.

"First rule of life; admit nothing." And with a mini swirl of plum coloured robes, Hermione was gone.

--

"Seriously, I honestly heard that Professor Granger was teaching…" a poor first year murmured as Snape walked through the first Slytherin-Gryffindor class of the year.

"Perhaps you heard incorrectly. Ten points from Gryffindor for disturbing the rest of the class."

The first year nodded and went back to his work, slowly dicing dandelion stalks. Happy that everyone was working, he sat at his desk facing the room. Instantly his eyes searched for his new adjunct, sat in the back, totally unassuming. Every child was so shocked when the Head of Slytherin, and their new nightmare material, crashed in through the door that they missed Hermione following in his wake, hidden in her own black robes.

Each member of the class had sat enraptured as Snape recited his perennial speech, including Hermione. The words washed over her in a manner akin to a waterfall, drenching her with promises of power. She had another speech like that to sit through and she didn't know if her knickers could take it.

Finally, the bell rang. "Pack up and leave." The crowd of students rushed through the door as Hermione stood from her chair, stretching, unknowingly drawing Snape's attention.

"I shall see you at lunch professor," said Hermione, politely.

"Where are you going? You have a lesson now."

"No I don't. It's fifth year Ravenclaw, a class I am not teaching."

"How many lessons have you observed?"

"One as a teacher but--"

"Sit down," he commanded.

She did, as haughtily as a spoilt brat, her arms crossed and her nose in the air. Severus smirked; she looked… less annoying.

"What?" Hermione demanded.

Severus' smirk grew nastier and he just walked into his office, moments before the fifth year Ravenclaws entered.

--

Hermione had a new found respect for Professor Snape. Not just him; all her ex-teachers, now colleagues, were higher in her estimations. Her last lesson of the day was with the raucous third year Gryffindors and Slytherins, hell bent on destroying each other. Fear was her constant companion, especially when Severus was sat behind his desk as they stirred. Obviously, any wrong doing was punished, but more so if the fault was Gryffindor in origin. Nothing much had changed on that front.

Of course, the righteous indignation she felt whenever Professor Snape took away House Points hadn't left her, but she knew where, and when, to get her revenge.

Her day over, she had retired to her quarters, intent on reading until some silly hour called bedtime, then sleeping until an hour before breakfast. However, Severus Snape had other plans for her.

"Mi—Professor Granger." This was said with as much calculated venom as deemed this side of polite. "Come down to the Potions lab immediately." His head disappeared from her fireplace.

"It's half past flipping ten. What could he want now?" Hermione muttered as she pulled on her boots. "Couldn't it wait until morning?" she groused as she walked to the Potions lab. It wasn't too far, but several Slytherins lost many points. "You wished to see me Professor?" Hermione asked, grinding the words through her teeth.

"Yes." He didn't look up from his cauldron.

Hermione waited. "Well?"

Snape looked her over once, before explaining. "I shall need your assistance Thursday evening."

Hermione blinked. "And you couldn't tell me that over the Floo?" she asked, getting angrier by the minute.

Snape's eyes narrowed as he added the next ingredient. "You'd do well to keep that temper in check," he murmured.

"Yes, well, you'd do well to sit on it and swivel. Goodnight!" she replied angrily, before flouncing out the door, almost slamming it as her bratty mood felt like doing.

Severus glared at the door, almost making the paint flake and the door to warp, until he realised the semi in his underpants. "Damn that woman!" he growled, tossing in the last ingredient. The perfect way to end such a "perfect" day.


End file.
